


A 221B Christmas

by TheProfessor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:23:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheProfessor/pseuds/TheProfessor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been over two years since Sherlock returned and this is their second Christmas as a couple. Sherlock is acting strangely and John has a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A 221B Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> For Shauwna: A belated Jesusmas present! Because I can't write worth a damn when I'm sick.

“Sherlock, where is the box of decorations?”

Sherlock typed away on his computer, distant as usual near Christmastime. “In your old closet, on the shelf.”

John frowned. He just checked there, but deigned to check again. They had reorganized the flat somewhat after John moved into Sherlock's bedroom almost two years ago. The upstairs room was little more than storage now, but it was useful. John crept around the disused beakers and test tubes that Sherlock couldn't bear to throw away. His experiments were just as annoying as they always were, but he had bought himself new equipment just the other day.

He rummaged through the closet a second time, still finding nothing akin to a Christmas tree decoration. A sudden memory ghosted through his mind and he walked to the bed, reaching beneath the frame to pull out the very box he was looking for. He hefted the object and shook his head. “In the closet. My foot it is.”

John headed back downstairs, pleased to find that Sherlock was already off his laptop. He had made such a fuss last year that Sherlock wasn't going to forget it ever again. Decorating the Christmas tree together had always been a family tradition in his house, even if Harry had always protested as loud as her big mouth would let her. Sherlock had been putting it off for days and now it was Christmas Eve.

John set the box down on his chair. He remembered throwing away all of the strings of lights after last year's unfortunate run in with Sherlock's need to test every warranty on every box and almost burn the flat down. There were a few presents beneath the small tree already, mostly from Sherlock to John. John never set his presents out until Sherlock was asleep, lest the consulting detective deduce the contents of every gift while he was gone. Not to mention the very special gift that was meant for tomorrow, hidden upstairs. He only hoped everything would go well.

“I thought we threw this one out,” Sherlock said, taking a particularly fragile glass bulb from John's outstretched hand.

“We did,” John replied. “After you broke the other one, I bought a new one.”

“Ah yes, the paint strokes are different,” Sherlock murmured, hanging it on a low branch.

They spent the next half hour hanging the bulbs to Sherlock's exact specifications. Too much red there, not enough gold here. John was losing his patience when Sherlock suddenly announced that the tree was both perfectly colored and symmetrical. “Thank God for that,” John thought, putting the few decorations that remained back in the box.

They spent a moment observing the – admittedly – beautiful Christmas tree. Or rather, John did. Sherlock spent the moment lacing his arm around John's waist and kissing his forehead. John leaned his head against his lover's shoulders. There was something wrong with Sherlock being so much taller than him.

“Oh,” said John, suddenly remembering. “I stopped and got us egg nog this afternoon.”

“And rum?”

John chuckled. “And rum.” He gave Sherlock a quick kiss on the lips. “I'll go get it.”

Sherlock couldn't drink a sip of egg nog without rum in it. John liked it either way, but Christmas Eve was a time for treats. He pulled two mugs from the cupboard, wondering why Sherlock had been so quiet today. Perhaps dreading the tree decorations. And Christmas wasn't his favorite time of the year either. He poured the glasses, giving himself a bit more rum than he probably should, and took them back into the living room.

Sherlock, however, wasn't there. John set the mugs on the side table. “Sherlock?”

“In here,” came the answer from their bedroom. “Just a moment.”

John raised an eyebrow, picking his mug up for a quick sip. Mmmm, perfect.

Sherlock emerged from the bedroom, fiddling with something that John couldn't see clearly. He looked... nervous? As if that adjective could ever be applied to Sherlock Holmes.

“You alright, love?” John asked, abandoning the egg nog in favor of staring quizzically into Sherlock's face.

Sherlock worked his jaw as he so often did before explaining something complicated or difficult. “You know that I'm not... good with these things.”

“You're not good with a lot of things,” John quipped, grinning when Sherlock feigned an eye roll in response.

Sherlock rolled the object around in his hand. John could see that it was black, but it was moving too quickly for him to see much more. “John...” He stopped. Worked his jaw again. “I... love you.”

“I love you too,” John answered, wondering where exactly this was going.

“And,” Sherlock continued, noting the confusion on his partner's face. “You are... the only person that I would like to be with. For the rest of my life.” He knelt down, presenting the open black box in his hand. The ring inside was silver and beautiful. “John Watson, will you marry me?”

John's eyes were wide. He blinked twice and then, much to Sherlock's utter befuddlement, burst into laughter. His sides heaved until tears were streaming from his eyes. Sherlock was so completely confused that he drew back, standing angrily. “John, mocking me-”

“No no, I'm not!” John waved his hands, still shaking with laughter. He kissed Sherlock on the mouth for just a moment. “I'll be right back, just wait here.” He ran to the stairs and bounded upwards, two by two.

Sherlock felt hollow watching him go, like someone had carved his still-beating heart from his chest. Time was slow, yet fast at the same time. It seemed forever and just a moment when John returned, grinning like a loon.

“John, if you-”

John stopped him by grabbing his empty hand and placing in it a box identical to the one in his opposite hand. Sherlock stared at it dumbly. “Well? Open it!”

Sherlock pried open the box that had been given to him, to find a ring that was perfectly sized to his hand. “I don't understand,” he said thickly.

“I never thought you'd actually ask me,” John said. “I was going to ask you instead. Tomorrow. Now I guess I don't have to.”

“...Does that mean yes?”

“You idiot, of course it means yes!” John swiped his new ring from the box and placed it firmly on his left ring finger, flashing it in front of his fiancé's face. “See?”

Sherlock immediately did the same with his own ring. “Well. There we are then.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

They stared each other down for precisely four seconds before grinning like loons and rushing into one another's arms, murmuring 'I love you's and kissing every inch of the other's face.

The rest of Christmas Eve was spent sipping egg nog and discussing their wedding. Sherlock passingly mentioned John in a dress, which earned him something thrown at his head. This led to a Sherlock versus John wrestling match, which may have turned into something else entirely.


End file.
